


Enlighten

by notjustmom



Series: Epiphany [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6859621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>+1 in which John cooks the thing with peas and surprises Sherlock for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enlighten

Yes, Lestrade got a rather edited version of 'that night...'

Sherlock paid the cabbie as they slowly emerged from the cab. He didn't understand why John wasn't upset with him. After all, he'd interrupted John's date, gotten them both kidnapped and nearly killed and to top it off, she had dumped him, rather politely, at least it seemed so from where he had sat watching, probably not a good thing, that.

He watched John walk up the stairs, hang up his coat and slip off his shoes. He started banging cupboards and pots and pans, but he was whistling that song that he always had as his ringtone, one of those rather wispy, mind-numbing things, from the nineties, he thought, he wasn't quite sure.

"Why don't you grab a shower if you want, this takes a bit of time." John yelled from the kitchen, then he started humming one of the lullabies Sherlock would play for him when he knew he was struggling with a nightmare. Sherlock slowly removed his scarf and coat, hung them up carefully, and took his place at his microscope, surely, he was in the way and John would -

"Would you like a glass of wine? I'm opening that bottle we got from that client who thought I was cute?

"Of course she thought you were cute, women always think I'm obnoxious and you're adorable - sure, if you're having some." They're wrong of course, you're gorgeous, at least the parts you've let me see - damn, what is wrong with me. He's not interested, never has been, never will be, he wants the wife, the kids, doesn't he...I don't understand. He sipped the wine John had handed him, he was too afraid to look at him, not sure what he would see in his flatmate's eyes.

He watched as John added the rice to the oil and stirred, he had no idea it took so much work to make the dish that John had made for him after he had had that stomach bug a month ago. He remembered that it was the best thing he had ever tasted and John was making it for him now. But, that means, wait. John started telling him about how his grandmother had taught him how to make the thing with peas when he was eight and he had to stand on a stool so he could stir the rice, he had been fascinated to watch the rice change colour as it cooked. 

"Could you get the peas out of the freezer? I think they are behind the, uhm, whatever is in the container that says 'DO NOT OPEN'? Not sure I need to know what is in there."

Sherlock got up and retrieved the peas. He couldn't remember exactly what he had put in the container, probably should be binned. He handed John the peas and felt a jolt of something as his fingers brushed against John's hand.

"Thanks," John said, quietly, and he smiled down into the pot. He added the wine to the rice and was quiet for a moment. Then he returned again to stirring, and telling Sherlock stories that he hadn't shared before. Stories of his family, growing up with his grandmother after his parents had died, his time in Afghanistan, friends he had lost, the day he was shot. Sherlock silently watched the rice change and he was rapidly adding new facts to John's space in his Mind Palace. If he considered what was happening, he probably would have realised this was John's version of foreplay, (or a shortened courtship, if you had asked John) taking care of the person he loved by cooking for them, and sharing those bits of himself that he never shared with anyone. 

But no one had ever bothered before, so it didn't cross the detective's mind.

As it was, John would ask Sherlock to retrieve ingredients and he would, lost in all the new data and the aroma of what was cooking on the stove and he thought there may have been a second glass of wine. At last the peas were stirred in and John covered the pot and turned down the flame.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?"

"Will you put down the glass for a minute."

Sherlock put his glass down and looked into John's eyes for the first time that night. Oh. But -

"John, please enlighten me, I don't understand -"

"I've been an idiot, Sherlock, and I realised tonight that I am in love with you and have been for -"

Sherlock didn't let him finish, but bent down and kissed him softly. "-a very long time."

John nodded. He took Sherlock's hand in his and led him out of the kitchen, they had somehow managed to avoid a trip to the A & E for once, no need to tempt fate. John couldn't keep his eyes from Sherlock's face, and Sherlock knew he was blushing furiously, but he couldn't be arsed to care. No one had ever looked at him in that way before. That way that meant something more than friendship, the way he had dreamed that John would look at him on those rare nights when he slept enough to actually dream.

"The risotto will take some time to cook." John whispered.

"Oh. Do you want to watch some crap telly, I think - "

"Uh-uh."

John placed a hand on either side of Sherlock's face and whispered, "I'd rather spend some time getting acquainted with your remarkable lips."

"Hmmmm, I think that would be accept-"

John's kiss made him forget whatever he was going to say, and after a moment, Sherlock blinked and pulled back to take in John's closed eyes, gently parted lips and slightly flushed face.

"You are lovely, John Watson. I always wanted to tell you that, never thought I'd-"

John's eyes opened in surprise and he shook his head. "No, I -"

"You are, it is not up for discussion."

"Couch?"

"Couch." Sherlock offered John his hand, and felt his brain slow down as John's fingers entwined with his for the first time. He managed to take a deep breath, and let John take over, getting them situated, so that John was lying down, and Sherlock was above him, allowing him to dictate whatever happened next. 

"Would it be okay if we just lie here, for a few minutes?"

"Of course," John grinned up at him.

Sherlock stretched out, his head resting against John's chest, his fingers wrapped around his wrist. They simply breathed together for what seemed like hours, John's fingers resting in his curls; his heartbeat became his favourite sound, his distinctive 'Johnness' became his favourite scent...

"I, uhm, think the risotto may be done." John murmured. Sherlock slipped from the couch, stretched, then gave John his hand, helping him up. John yawned, blinked, then reached up gingerly to touch Sherlock's face again, as if not quite believing this was real. Sherlock closed his eyes and nodded, then took John's fingers and pressed them to his lips.

"Dinner?" John managed to whisper, as he led Sherlock to the kitchen. He scooped up a small bite of risotto and blew on it until it was cool enough, then held it up to Sherlock's smiling mouth.

"Taste?"

"Hmmm...perfect."

"Just like you." Sherlock snorted, then looked at John, who had already started busying himself with serving up a huge bowl of the 'thing with peas.'

They spent the next few minutes in silence, finishing the wine, feeding each other, and smiling. 

"You're smiling..."

"...like an idiot." Sherlock finished the thought.

"I was going to say, like someone in love."

"What does that look like, I, uhm, have never been in love before."

"Beautiful."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Realization](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386658) by [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456)




End file.
